


i like my body when it is with your

by unfinishedidea



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfinishedidea/pseuds/unfinishedidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is jealous of the people Bucky goes to visit at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i like my body when it is with your

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surexit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surexit/gifts).



> surexit requested Steve/Bucky, "size difference kink? before Steve gets embiggened?" and I don't know how well I worked that in, but I tried? :D? Also, there is a weird POV shift, but whatever, it's comment porn, I DO WHAT I WANT (read: I'm lazy). Title is from an e.e. cummings poem; how terribly clichéd.

Bucky unlocks the door to their apartment as quietly as he can, keys clinking softly as he slowly pushes the door open. It’s an unnecessary gesture, as it turns out, since the light is still on and Steve is sitting at the kitchen table.

“You haven’t moved at all since I last saw you,” Bucky says.

Steve shrugs and doesn’t look up. “I need to get this done; it’s due tomorrow.” He’s sketching something out in compressed charcoal; his hands are covered in black dust. There’s a dark smudge by his eyebrow.

Bucky unbuttons his coat and hangs it up. Steve is uncharacteristically quiet, unsmiling. He fiddles with the charcoal and finally sets it down.

“Bucky, I know where you—where you go, late at night.” Bucky’s heart stops for one painfully long second.

“I—” He tries to deny it, but the words stick in his throat and won’t come.

Steve looks at his hands intently. “You don’t have to hide it from me, you know. I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Bucky should say something. He opens his mouth, but still nothing comes out.

“You know, you don’t have to—” Steve’s fingers twist together, and he flushes. “With other people. What I mean to say is—you can—with me.”

It takes a moment for Bucky to understand. “What?” he finally gets out. He hopes he doesn’t sound as desperately eager to Steve as he does to himself.

“I know I’m not—” Steve stops himself, but Bucky knows what he’s not saying. _You are, Steve, you are, you have no idea_ , Bucky thinks helplessly. “But I think it would be safer. With me. If you wanted to,” Steve continues. He’s still not looking at Bucky, which Bucky is grateful for, because he has no idea what his own face looks right now.

Jesus.

* * *

Bucky still isn’t saying anything, and Steve wants to bury his face in his arms. He shouldn’t have brought it up. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d blurted it out, obviously, had been trying to suppress the heavy bitterness of jealously that had been curling inside of him for hours, weighing him down. Bucky’s probably just trying to think of a way to turn him down gently.

“Sorry, forget I said anything,” Steve says, and Bucky comes over to sit in the chair next to Steve. Bucky gets a finger under his chin, lifts it up until Steve is forced to look at him. “Have you ever done this before?” Bucky asks.

“Polly Hewitt kissed me that one time, in 7th grade,” Steve says, “but you already knew that. And I—once. With Billy. Just our—our hands.” Steve can feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a moment, then asks quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to treat me like a kid,” Steve says, annoyed.

“That’s not what I’m—I just. Are you sure?”

 _No_ , Steve thinks, _Yes. I don’t know._ He nods. Bucky cups a hand around his jaw, leans in and kisses him, and it’s painfully gentle, at first, slow and sweet, nothing at all like he thought it would be and everything that he’s told himself he doesn’t want.

It doesn’t stay gentle for long. Bucky’s other hand comes up to tangle in his hair, and Steve breathes into Bucky’s mouth; he’s dizzy, can’t seem to get enough air.

Bucky unexpectedly moves away, standing and pulling Steve up with him. “What—” Steve says before he inhales in surprise as Bucky gets one arm under him and the other around his waist and lifts him easily onto the table. Bucky’s mouth is back on Steve’s immediately, Bucky’s bulk curling around him, enveloping. Steve’s entire body feels flushed, like it’s burning from the inside out.

Bucky breaks off and mouths at his neck; Steve can feel the light press of teeth, and _oh_ , that’s—he arches in pleasure, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist. The motion rubs his cock against Bucky’s, and even though they’re both still fully clothed, it sends a sharp shock of lust through him.

“Hold on to me,” Bucky says, and Steve automatically gets his arms around Bucky’s neck and tightens his legs before Bucky picks him up.

“I can walk,” Steve says, trying to sound protesting, but deep down, he likes it, and he’s sure Bucky sees through his griping. Bucky strides towards his own bedroom, pinning Steve against the wall next to the door, and says, “I don’t want to take my hands off you,” voice low, kissing him again as he shifts against Steve. Bucky’s shirt bunches up under his fingers, and when Bucky pulls back for a moment, he says, breathless, “Sorry, I’m getting your clothes dirty.” Bucky wheezes out a laugh, and says, “Believe me, that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

They stay there for some time, Bucky alternating lazy, shallow kisses with deeper, breathtaking ones, and Steve thinks he could be content with just this, but then Bucky readjusts his grip and mumbles against his mouth, “I want to go down on you, can I go down on you?” and Steve _wants_ ; it jolts through him like a bolt of lightning. He doesn’t trust his voice, just nods, and Bucky walks them into his room, deposits him gently on the bed.

When Bucky moves to unbuckle his belt, Steve’s overcome with a wave of self-consciousness, and he grabs Bucky’s wrist unthinkingly. Bucky looks at him wide-eyed, says, “We don’t have to, if you—”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s not that—I just. I’m. I know I’m not exactly—a catch—” and Bucky claps a hand over his mouth, and says, “You stop that right now, okay?”

Bucky drops his hand after a moment, tries for Steve’s belt again, and Steve lets him, lets Bucky help him out of his pants and his shirt, and Steve’s still feeling insecure, but Bucky pushes him back against the bedspread, looks at him—almost reverently. Steve must be imagining it.

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” Bucky says, and sucks him down, using his hand where his mouth doesn’t reach, and it’s _wet_ , so wet, and slick, and Steve lets out a shaky breath. He could get lost in this, easily, does get lost in it for a time, and it’s amazing, it’s better than anything, but he wants—more. Bucky’s lips slide over the head of his cock, and he bites back a moan, perilously close to the edge, and says, “Wait, Bucky, wait, I want you to—to f-fuck me,” stumbling over the word, but managing to get it out.

Bucky groans around his cock, and then pulls off and says, “Jesus, Steve, don’t say things like that, not if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it, Bucky, I’m serious, I want you to,” and he desperately, desperately does. This might be his only chance.

Bucky groans again into the skin of Steve’s hip and says, “We really shouldn’t be doing this all at once.”

“I want to. I trust you,” Steve says. Bucky glances up at him in surprise. He hesitates, then seems to come to a decision, moving off the bed to rummage in the dresser, and brings back a paper packet and a small bottle.

Bucky drops both items next to Steve and says, “We can stop at any time. I mean it, Steve. If you need to stop, _say so_.”

He gets a pillow under Steve and kneels between the V of Steve’s legs. He pours a generous amount of what’s in the bottle onto his hand—lube, Steve realizes, flushing.

“This’ll be easier if you push down,” Bucky warns, and slides his finger in.

Steve’s done this to himself, only once, in the shower. The feeling is still alien. Bucky lets him adjust, then gets another finger into him. It’s still strange; his body doesn’t know what to make of it. Things start making sense when Bucky pushes three fingers into him; he brushes against something in Steve, electric and unexpected, and Steve’s entire body curves, reflexively. Bucky stops.

“Did I hurt you?” Bucky asks, urgent.

“No, k-keep—” Steve swallows “—keep going.” Bucky does, rubbing the same spot in an erratic pattern. If it feels like this with just Bucky’s fingers—

“I’m ready, you can—” Steve says, and Bucky slowly exhales, still thrusting his fingers in Steve, in and out, and Steve digs his hands into the covers.

Bucky pulls out slowly, then wipes the lube off on the bed and efficiently strips. Steve can’t help but stare at him; he’s perfect, he could get anyone he wanted to, but he’s here. Bucky slips the condom on and dumps a handful of lube over his cock, eyes fluttering shut as he strokes himself briefly.

And then Bucky’s over him, gripping one of his legs carefully, and Steve’s viscerally reminded of how much bigger Bucky is than him, in ever way. “Let me know if I’m hurting you at all,” Bucky says and then he’s pushing in. His cock is a blunt heat against Steve, and then it’s—it’s _in him_ , and Steve struggles to keep his breathing even. 

The pressure builds and just keeps building, and he’s spiraling higher and higher. It tips over into too much, and he’s wound too tightly, he’s going to shatter if it doesn’t stop.

“Wait,” Steve manages, and Bucky looks _horrified_ , says, “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” and starts to pull out, but Steve grabs at him frantically, says, “No, don’t, I just—need a second.” Bucky freezes, and Steve closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe deeply, slowly. He counts out a full minute in his head before he says, “I’m okay, you can keep going.” He still feels like he’s on the verge of flying apart, but it’s on this side of manageable, now.

“Are you sure? Steve. Look at me,” and Steve doesn’t want to, doesn’t know if he can take it, but he opens his eyes. There’s concern on Bucky’s face, and something that Steve can’t identify. “We don’t have to do this right now; you don’t have to prove anything.”

Steve shakes his head, and says, “I’m fine, I want to do this, it’s just—a little more than I was expecting.” Bucky still seems skeptical, like he’s about to pull out anyway, and Steve says, “Please.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, “okay,” and he starts to move in him. It’s all right at first, but then Bucky begins to build a steady rhythm, and Steve thought he’d be prepared for it—he isn’t completely inexperienced, after all—but the pleasure is nothing at all like when he uses a hand on himself, it’s not even in the same realm. Bucky leans down to capture his mouth in a messy kiss, and Steve’s surrounded and _taken_ , completely and utterly. It’s so intense it’s almost unbearable, almost _excruciating_ , he doesn’t know how anyone could ever stand this, and he can only gasp, “Please, _please_ ,” and Bucky groans and gets a hand on him, and before he has the chance to take another breath, everything explodes. Everything is light and shattering, consuming pleasure, and the sensation is threatening to tow him under. He’s never felt anything like this before in his life.

Bucky’s moaning into his neck now, trembling, and—oh. Oh. Steve’s mind is scattered, and he can’t wrap his head around the fact that Bucky is— _coming_ —in him. Bucky collapses on Steve unexpectedly, which knocks the already little wind he has out of him, and Bucky mumbles, “Sorry, sorry,” before sliding off of him.

Something deep inside of him has irrevocably shifted, and there is no turning back. There is no going back to before this, before knowing what Bucky felt like, before knowing the sounds he would make. Steve knows this won’t last forever. He does. But he’s also selfish, and he’s going to cling to every last thing that Bucky’s willing to give him.

It’ll be enough.


End file.
